Tell Me Who I Am

by Julia Navarro

  “Yes, of course, when they came back to Barcelona. But I’ve already told you that one of my best books is about the Soviet agents of that time, and Pierre was one of them. So I had to investigate everything that happened to him. He was an interesting man, a fanatic, although he didn’t seem like one. I think you should read my book, it will be very useful for you.”

  “Do you mention my great-grandmother in it?”

  “No.”

  Pablo got up and took a fairly thick book from a shelf. I thanked him for the present and said that I would be sure to call on him again.

  “Yes, do, I don’t have so much going on these days, I’ve just sent a book off to the printer, so I’m practically on holiday.”

  He accompanied me to the door, and his wife came out to meet us on the way.

  “Won’t you stay for lunch with us?” she asked with a smile.

  “Ah, Charlotte, I haven’t introduced you. This is Señor Albi.”

  “Pleased to meet you. I am Guillermo Albi.”

  “Señor Albi, I have to thank you for keeping my husband entertained; he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not writing, and he had no option other than to stop writing now, given that he’s just finished a book. So you came at a welcome moment.”

  “Thank you very much, I hope I won’t have to intrude too often, although Don Pablo has given me permission to come and see you again soon.”

  Although she was older, Charlotte was clearly the woman from the painting that had attracted my attention. She seemed to be North American, although she spoke good Spanish with a soft southern accent. I thought that Don Pablo’s wife was very friendly, and must have been very beautiful in the past, she still had traces of her former beauty.

  I went to the hotel so I could call Doña Laura at my leisure. I was starting to enjoy this job my Aunt Marta had employed me to do. I was going from surprise to surprise, and I could just imagine the scene when my family sat down to read the story next Christmas. My Aunt Marta, a real right-winger, was going to have kittens when she discovered that her grandmother had been the lover of a Soviet agent.

  I turned on my mobile on the way back to the hotel. I had an urgent message from the head of the culture section on the online newspaper I worked for. I called him straight away.

  “Guillermo, what’s going on? You should have given us the Pamuk review yesterday. You’ve really screwed things up for us, we had ads running from the publishing house and they’ve rung us up to ask what’s going on.”

  “I’m sorry, Pepe, I got sidetracked, I’ll send it to you right away, give me an hour.”

  “An hour? This is an online newspaper, and I’ve got to upload the article now. Where the hell are you?”

  “In Barcelona, I came to meet a historian, Pablo Soler.”

  “Wow! Soler’s one of the big names, his books on the Civil War are some of the most serious and balanced ones there are. He’s an authority in the North American universities.”

  “Yes, I know, he’s the real deal. Well, I got the chance to meet him and... Well, I didn’t do the Orhan Pamuk review, but I read the book and it won’t take me any time at all to write the article and send it to you. Let me get back to the hotel, I’m on my way now.”

  “Well, just this once... and hey, now that you know Pablo Soler, ask for an interview; it’d be a real coup, he doesn’t like journalists and he never gives interviews.”

  “Alright, I’ll try, let’s see what he says.”

  “Give it a go, at least it’ll stop the boss from being so cross with you. Oh, and get me the article in the next half hour.”

  My mother had been right: I was getting so caught up in my great-grandmother’s story that I was forgetting my own reality, a rubbishy job at an online newspaper where they paid me a hundred euros per article. It had been months since I’d earned more than four hundred euros, enough to pay for cigarettes and bus fare, but not much else. If Pablo Soler agreed to give me an interview, then maybe the director of the newspaper would think that I was good for more than just writing book reviews. They paid more for interviews. Of course, it was a bit embarrassing to go back to Professor Soler’s house and ask for an interview; it was one thing for him to agree to talk about my great-grandmother, and quite another for him to agree to talk to the press. But I would try. I wasn’t in any financial position to allow myself delicate feelings, even with Aunt Marta’s support during the investigation into Amelia Garayoa.

  4

  I had not read the whole of Pamuk’s book, but I was practiced enough at my job to be able to bluff my way through a review, which is what I did. I called Pepe to ask him if he’d gotten the review, and after that was done I felt calmer. He insisted that I interview Professor Soler, and I promised I would try. Then I called my mother.

  “But where are you? I’ve been calling your mobile all morning but it was turned off.”

  “I’m in Barcelona, I’ve been meeting with a man who knew great-grandmother.”

  “He knew her? He must be as old as the hills, because your great-grandmother would be over ninety now, if she were still alive.”

  “Well, he was a kid when he knew her, but he’s pretty old, yes.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I’m not going to tell you, I’m not going to say anything until I’ve finished the investigation, but I will tell you that my great-grandmother had a pretty busy life, and that you’ll be surprised.”

  “Your Aunt Marta has been ringing me to complain: She says that you won’t tell her how the investigation’s going, and that she doesn’t know if you’re really working or just living the high life at her expense.”

  “Your sister’s a real charmer.”

  “Guillermo, she’s your aunt and she loves you a lot!”

  “Me? Well, she must have taken acting classes, because she’s very good at hiding it.”

  “Guillermo, don’t be silly.”

  “Well, I won’t deal with Aunt Marta any more than necessary. Well, I’m ringing to see how you are and if you’ll have me round for dinner this evening.”

  “Of course, I want to see you.”

  “Well, I’ll be at the door at ten on the dot.”

  I hung up and thought about how my mother had infinite patience with me.

  Then I called Doña Laura; I wanted her to tell me what had happened in those days before the Civil War, or else to tell me who could give me that information, because it was clear that this was the only lead I had to follow.

  The housekeeper seemed to vacillate when I told her who I was and asked if I could speak to Doña Laura or Doña Melita. She left me waiting and it was only after several minutes that I heard the voice of Doña Laura, which seemed less lively than on previous occasions.

  “I’m not well, I’ve had hypoglycemia,” she said in what was little more than a whisper.

  “I don’t want to bother you, but Professor Soler told me that Amelia was in Madrid two or three days before the Civil War broke out and that she was trying to get in touch with her family. The Professor told me that you might be able to let me know what happened during those days, before he tells me the rest of his story. But if you’re not well, I suppose... I could wait or else you could give me the name of someone else to talk to.”

  Doña Laura told me again that she was not well and that the doctor had told her to keep to her bed. As for Doña Melita, she wasn’t well either, so maybe it would be best for me to talk to Edurne.

  “It was Edurne whom Amelia saw in those days. She was only with me for less than an hour. Come tomorrow morning, but try not to tire her out too much, she’s very old and this is a big effort for her.”

  “I’ll try to keep the conversation as short as possible, I promise.”

  I realized that all my sources were old people who were entering the last leg of their lives. I would have to work fast, or else I might find that they’d vanished overnight. I decided to concentrate on my investigation and just sleep less so as not to lose my job with the online pape
r.

  When I got to the airport, there were only business-class tickets back to Madrid. I wondered if I should wait for the next flight, but then I thought that Aunt Marta wasn’t going to go bust just by paying a little more for a flight.

  When I got back I took a taxi. I was headed home when my mobile buzzed and pulled me out of my reveries.

  “Guillermo, handsome, where’ve you gone to? You haven’t called me for more than a fortnight.”

  “Hello Ruth, I’m in Madrid, I just got back from Barcelona.”

  “I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me, I’ve got a great foie gras I bought in Paris yesterday.”

  I didn’t hesitate. I called my mother to apologize; an evening with Ruth was much more exciting, especially if we started to look deep into each other’s eyes over the liver. Ruth was a flight attendant for a low-fare airline, and did the Paris run a lot, so I could be sure that the foie gras would be accompanied by a fine Burgundy. So it looked like a great night.

  My mother grumbled, but she didn’t get cross. The truth is that when she told me what she’d cooked, I became even more sure that I wanted to eat with Ruth. My mother was convinced that I ate badly, so whenever I went to see her she would insist that I have salad, followed by grilled fish without salt.

  It was a memorable evening. I had forgotten how much I missed Ruth until I saw her again. She was extremely patient with me and wasn’t trying to hurry me into marriage. She gave me space, I don’t know whether this was because she only wanted to use me from time to time or because she realized that I wasn’t mature enough to make any kind of commitment. But whatever, it was an ideal relationship.

  I arrived at the Garayoas’ house at eleven in the morning. The housekeeper told me that Doña Laura was still in bed and that Doña Melita was at the doctor’s, having some tests done. Amelia María had taken her.

  Edurne was sitting in the library waiting for me. She was not happy to see me.

  “Didn’t I tell you enough?”

  “I promise I won’t bother you too much, but I want to know what happened when Amelia came back to Madrid with Pierre. It must have been about the fourteenth or fifteenth of June in ’36. Doña Laura told me that you saw her.”

  “Yes, I saw her,” Edurne said in a very faint voice. “How could I forget...”

  Amelia and Pierre had been in Madrid for a couple of days. He’d asked a couple of friends, a married couple, to look after Amelia and not to leave her alone. Although she tried to get out of being accompanied, she had no option but to accept, but the loss of liberty and the lack of trust shown by Pierre were such that she started to think about leaving him. But Amelia really only felt confused, and the idea of leaving Pierre evaporated when she saw him appear smiling, with a rose in his hand.

  One day he realized that there was no way of delaying Amelia’s encounter with her family any longer, that he could not tell her any more stories. On the morning of the seventeenth, with Pierre by her side, Amelia telephoned Laura. Laura was not at home, she had gone out with her sister Melita and her brother Jesús and her mother, Doña Elena. Don Armando was not there either. Amelia, in desperation, asked for me. She wanted to see her parents, but she didn’t dare turn up at their house without knowing who would be there, or if they would agree to receive Pierre.

  I was so happy when I heard her voice, and she asked me to go to La Carmela, the boardinghouse where she was staying. I got there in less than ten minutes, and you can’t imagine how fast I ran, because it was quite a long way.

  We saw each other and began to weep. We hugged for a long time before Pierre could separate us.

  “Come on, stop crying! Were you so keen to see each other? Well...”

  Amelia asked me to tell her how her family was.

  “Don Juan is better, he has recovered well from the heart attack; Doña Teresa won’t leave his side. Your mother had a terrible fright, she was with Don Juan when he had the attack. At least she had enough presence of mind to call the chauffeur and get him to take Don Juan to hospital right away. That’s what saved his life. But your father is sad, he’s not been the same since you left. Doña Teresa has grown old suddenly, but she hasn’t given way; she’s the main support for the whole house. Antonietta took it badly as well; she was crying for weeks.”

  “Do you think my parents will forgive me if I go to see them?”

  “Of course! They’ll be so happy.”

  “And what will they say about Pierre?”

  “But... is he going to come with you?”

  “Yes, Pierre is... is... well, he’s like my husband.”

  “But he isn’t your husband!”

  “I know, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as I can I am going to get divorced and marry him, it’s only a matter of time.”

  “But your parents are still extremely shaken by what happened, is there no way you can go by yourself?”

  Amelia would have liked to do this, but Pierre was not ready for her to meet her family without him being present. He was afraid of losing her. And he was in fact very close to losing her.

  “And what about my son? How is Javier?”

  “We only hear about him via Águeda. Don Santiago doesn’t want to know anything about your family. He has said that he prefers to establish a distance between them, and that we will see in the future if he will allow them to see your son. But he’s a good man, he allows your parents to call and see Águeda when he’s not there to ask about the child.”

  “Have you seen my son?”

  “No, I haven’t dared to go. But you have no need to worry, Águeda is looking after him very well, she loves him as if he were her own child.”

  Amelia burst into tears; she felt indebted to Águeda for looking after her child, but at the same time it hurt her greatly that she was playing the role of the baby’s mother.

  “But he’s my son! He’s mine!”

  “Yes, he’s your son, but you are not here.”

  These words were worse than a slap in the face. She looked at me in angry pain.

  “I want my son!” she shouted.

  Pierre held her, afraid that she would have a fit, which wouldn’t look good in La Carmela, where people thought they were a married couple.

  “Calm down, Amelia, nobody is saying that Javier is not your son, and we will get him back, just you wait, but all in good time. We will start divorce proceedings from Buenos Aires, and then you can come back for Javier.”

  “Are you going to Buenos Aires?” I asked.

  “I don’t know! I don’t want to go anywhere!”

  You could see that Pierre was fed up with the situation, and I think he was just about to tell me that I should take Amelia, and good riddance.

  “You don’t have to come if you don’t want. I just wanted to start a new life, far away from our past, and if you don’t love me...”

  “Yes, yes, I love you! But I think I’m going mad!”

  “It’s best if you go, Edurne, you know where we are. Tell Amelia’s aunt and uncle, and if they think it’s a good idea we can go to their house, or to Amelia’s parents’ house. I want to beg pardon from Don Juan and Doña Teresa for the damage I have caused them, and to let them know that I love Amelia more than life itself and only want her to be happy.”

  I went home in a state of extreme surprise. I had admired Pierre ever since I had seen him in Lola’s house. He was so commanding, seemed so sure of himself... I was sure that he was completely in love with Amelia. Although I realized that she wasn’t happy, that she regretted the step she had taken, and that if she could undo the actions she had taken, then she would do it in an instant. But I did not know how to help her, I felt as confused as she did.

  Doña Elena and her children did not get back until midday, and when I told them that Doña Amelia was in Madrid, seemed very unhappy, and wanted to see them, Laura did not hesitate.

  “We’ll go see her at once!”

  “But we cannot go to that boardinghouse, where she is staying with t
hat man!”

  “Why not? Don’t you see that she doesn’t dare come here?”

  “She’s welcome to come here, but not with that man. That’s what Edurne has to say to her. We want to see her and we will go with her to her parents’ house, but she has to come alone. It would be a disgrace for her to present herself here with that man. Your Uncle Juan would die of shock. Amelia has to understand that.”

  “Don’t be like that, Mama!” Laura protested.

  “I will not have that man in my house! Never! He is shameless, he has taken advantage of Amelia’s innocence, and I don’t want to deal with people like that.”

  “Mama, Amelia is in love with Pierre!”

  “Right, so now you tell us that she ran away for love, and not to start a revolution... Santiago was right.”

  “But, Mama...”

  “That’s enough, we will do as I say. Edurne, go and see Amelia and tell her that we will wait for her. As for that man, she must understand that no decent family can receive him. Your father is about to arrive and he will agree with me.”

  I ran back to La Carmela without realizing that Laura was following close behind me. She had decided to disobey her mother in order to see Amelia; she was afraid that Amelia would refuse to come see them if she could not come with Pierre. She caught up with me just as I was about to go into the building. We went up together to the boardinghouse, which was on the second floor. Amelia and Pierre were having lunch in the little dining room. I can remember even today that they were having fried eggs and peppers.

  If Amelia had cried when she saw me, it was nothing next to the flood of tears she shed when she saw Laura. The two cousins hung together in an endless embrace.

  Pierre felt uncomfortable, especially as Doña Carmela did not miss the chance to come into the dining room to see what was going on. He suggested that we go out into the street to someplace where we could talk without being seen. He took us to a café in the Plaza de Santa Ana, and the four of us sat down.